


Something I Cannot Hate

by B_Uthoughtwrong



Series: The Things I Hate About You [6]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Insert, F/M, Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 12:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11013198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Uthoughtwrong/pseuds/B_Uthoughtwrong
Summary: A drabble-y take on the sixth line, technically sixth but actually forth hated thing, of the poem in the film 10 Things I Hate About You."and the way you read my mind"





	Something I Cannot Hate

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, I agree my summary is bleh but it's just because the poem ten things I hate about you states more than ten things and I just cut em up and all.  
> I also just addedthe word 'i hate' to add more sense to the line.  
> I still hope you like my take on this  
> Heh, i can dream  
> Thanks  
> Bye  
> (Sorry for any typos)  
> xxx

_and [I hate] the way you read my mind_

* * *

 

If I had to use one word to describe the vixen who constantly kept my thorax unsettled, whose scent practically made me moulder, whom I find myself uncharacteristically, willingly giving my whole attention to, the word would be _sultry._

Her invisibly- _visible_ veil of confidence covered her, though it helped not in concealing, for she favored clothes that revealed much of her creamy flesh. I had mixed emotions towards that; I enjoyed the sight of her smooth skin being available to my eyes, but felt equally angered by the thought of others mentally undressing her just as I did. I'll admit, I'm possessive, obsessive, jealous, lewd, and tempered, but every other man would just gracelessly shag her, something I could never do. No, it'd take ages for me to savor and to fondle her whole existence, tasting every bit of salt in her, meticulously pouring myself into her. At a time, she wore a mauve silk dress that nearly poked me into madness. I vividly remember how it clung to her, _as if_ for dear life. How it tempted my vindictive soul, beckoning the touch of my experienced hands. And how she pulled her thick locks up in a bun, showing the state of her sheen, sweat layered nape. I physically kept neutral, but my core was pleading for mercy, _for satisfaction._

I find myself like a cockroach, yet envious of mosquitoes who have left their mark on her skin and have assaulted her with an itch after tasting her sweet blood.

 

"Dr. Lector," she mused, abruptly bringing me back to present. She sat on an unworthy chair across my desk and a her lips and brows were tugged down in slight worry. "Is something bothering you?" she innocently asked.

What a funny question; as a matter of fact your garments are hindering my sight of your bosoms, would you so kindly peel the _unnecessary_ article of fabric off your body?

 _"No."_ The corner of my lips twitched. "I simply got caught up in your fragrance." That wasn't whole dishonesty. "It's quite vernal." I leaned back in my chair. I change my mind about the word I'd use to describe her. "It brought me back to a memory of when I was strolling a park as the warmth of the sun engulfed me." The word I'd use... "Twas a lovely day." ...is _intoxicating._ "But it wasn't at all as lovely as you."

She smiled coyly, bashfully bowing her head down in an attempt to hide the crimson heat that grew all over her face. I smirked, pleased at her reaction to my words. "Thank you." she whispered. Through all her confidence, her modesty was its equal. Never could she take a compliment without such an innocent, _delicious_ reaction. I pawed the air, "Need I thanks for stating a fact, my dear?" Her eyes an nose crinkled in response. A captivating smile spread across her face.

She kept her silence and I leaned in, resting my elbows and joined hands upon the surface of my wooden desk. "Well, putting aside all compliments," a smile ghosted on my lips. "How can I help you today?"

  
"Actually, everything's well." she smiled, almost making my expression drop. Dear goodness, this was that day wasn't it? This was the day she no longer felt compelled to share her burdens with me. "I just came over because..." _she was kind_ enough to formally end our psychiatric meetings, meaning I would have to resolve to _foisting_ her a new diagnosis, _crushing_ whatever wellness she had in her current spirit. _"... I have news."_ her expression stayed neutral. Or maybe I'll simply resolve to something not so... _manipulative._ But all at once, she broke into a smile and lifted her left hand, a glistening amber rock prominent on her ring finger. "I'm getting married!" she squealed.

Now, my expression most certainly dropped. As she exploded into enthusiasm, I forced a smile. I don't know if I preferred this news over the one I had anticipated. She settled herself back into composure. Well, at least now I could alternatively resolve with doing away with her _fiancé--_ not that I actually was going to do away with her. She turned to me as my fake mask of happiness faltered. She smiled sweetly and place her hands on my own. I smirked. Where else was I to find a body and personality like hers, if I did?

"Dr. Lecter," true enough I had tried to get her to address me by my first name, but she had kept on calling me this. As time went by, I've adapted a slight _kink_ to it, and wound up making sure only ever she called me so. "Just because I'm getting married doesn't mean you won't be seeing me around." I almost choked at her deduction.

 

She was arousing like this, _arousingly frustrating._ She had always been good at seeing through me. So good. And always so clever. At times it made me wonder which of us was the real psychologist. I smiled again, only this time it was slightly heartfelt. "To whom are you to be wed?"

"Paris."

Ah yes, the suitor Juliet was first destined to elope with before she settled with her Romeo. "You remember him right?" I felt bile rise up my throat. How could I forget the ever wandering-handed, maladroit, neophyte insect that is _"Paris,"_ I repeated with a nod of agreement. "I remember."

She relaxed at my words, pulling away, leaning back into her chair. "What was his last name again?"

"Teodoré." she spoke with satisfaction, as if she was speaking her own last name.

As if I'll allow _that_ to happen.

I shifted slightly from my seat, crossed my legs, and clenched my jaw. I was to question her about the current vermin that was her partner, but she spoke before I could. "Dr. Lecter, I know what you're thinking." I raised a brow. _Do_   _you?_ "My Paris is a good man." she smiled sweetly. I almost rolled my eyes. What a vexing statement. "I know you don't think of him much." Quite contrary, I've thought of him many times, never quite making my mind if I should mince him or stew him. "Nor do you think much of him," now _that_ is a factual statement. "But _I_ love him."

Silence.

"And _he_ loves me."

 

What offence. What terrible gist this was. She gazed upon her ring.  _Preposterous._ She looked at me through her thick lashes. Her rosy, pulp lips pressed together, forming a straight line. She raised her chin so we quite literally saw eye to eye. "I'm sorry this news is not genial to you," she sighed. "But we need to set our boundaries."

Boundaries? For... _what?_

"Dr. Lecter, please don't act like this... you know _exactly_ what I mean."

My face softened.

"Though I've never reprimand your advances, and yes, I am flattered by your compliments, I want to make it clear that I am going to be married." She huffed, "And I don't want to give the wrong ideas."

I kept my face blank but internally, I was pulling my hair off. _How?_ How could I be so transparent to her? How could she see past this façade I've made impregnable? And how could I not girth the same knowledge she did? Why was it that I had to dig the inner depths of her and my own mind in order to analyze only infinitesimal data I so carefully culled? She had seen through my tainted soul, yet her's to me was opaque. I swear I saw a smile spread on her lips as I kept still in contemplation.

_No._

I am not to give her the satisfaction she came for.

 

I knit my brows, stifled a chuckle. "I... _apologize,"_ she would never see this coming. A small, victorious grin grew on her lips. Abruptly, we spoke up in chorus.

"It's alright."

_"That it seemed like I was coming on to you."_

Her pleased expression washed away at once. "It was never my intention to confuse you into belief my kindness was something more." She furrowed her brows and turned from my gaze. I leaned back and digested my swift victory. "You never said you were uncomfortable with my politeness." She was believed me; it was evident. I blinked twice at the sight of her, _vulnerable,_ ripe for the harvest. "Maybe it's due to our cultural differences." I felt ease confide in me, finally. "I try to be vernacular; I try to do as the Romans," Her expression bubbled a bit of guilt in me, but I felt victorious, nevertheless. "But I just can't seem to hit the target." She turned back to me again, her cheeks were slightly flushed.

I grinned, "But it's my fault."

"Wait, I-"

I raised a hand, "Please." I stood from where I sat then extended my hand towards her. "I will admit this as my mistake." She took my hand, my blood pulsed at the feeling of her soft skin on mine.

"Doctor Lec-"

 _"My dear."_ The corners of lip perked up. I corrected myself and spoke her name in fake defeat. I felt her posture shift at the sound of my voice uttering the word that was a synonym to her being. _"I apologize."_ I pulled her closer, just a bit, and found pleasure in hearing her breath hitch due to our close proximity.

I then lead her to the door, feeling awfully splendid with regards to my act, and smiled at her as she out my door, slowly. I didn't want to end our appointment so soon, but it seemed only appropriate with this whole play of mine. "Dr. Lector," she mumbled again, looking to her feet. She turned to me, slowly once again, and I looked at her expectantly. She pursed her lips. "Thank you for everything." she squeaked, not truly knowing what to say.

I flaunted my pearly whites in amusement, "I'm simply doing my job."

Thus, she walked off and my eyes traced her long legs every step out. I hummed as I retreated to my chair. _I'll change my word again._ She had left me quite famished and flustered. _And she, yes, was sultry and intoxicating._ She also ruined my plans for her today. _But I feel unfathomable was the word that best described my queen._ I closed my eyes, drifting deep into my thoughts. _No matter,_ I already have a wicked thought brewing in my head. I can practically taste the red meat I so badly crave. I smirked. All that's left is to decide.

What to do of her beloved Paris?

And what to do of my sweet, mind-reading veal?


End file.
